


Love Over the Phone (The Chosen One Remix)

by dragons_and_angels



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Rookie Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-05 11:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18364850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_and_angels/pseuds/dragons_and_angels
Summary: When you're friends with your rival, you have to deal with some drama.





	Love Over the Phone (The Chosen One Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theminiummark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theminiummark/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Chosen One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9213764) by [theminiummark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theminiummark/pseuds/theminiummark). 



> **Notes:** Brian Willsie was Ovi's road roommate and helped Ovi practice his English.  
> Dainius Zubrus was who Ovi said was his close friend during his rookie season, also the only other Russian-speaking player on the Caps at the time. 
> 
> All the quotes in italics are from articles at the time, I had great fun reading them and see how everyone felt about Ovi and Sid! Thanks to the minimum mark for the chance :)

**2** **004, after Washington Capitals win the 1st pick**

_Capitals hockey is saved._ \- Sporting News  
  
Sasha pulled the jersey over his head and wondered if his smile looked as goofy as it felt. The Washington Capitals had picked him and he was going to play in the NHL. Two years he had been waiting for this moment and now he was smiling for the cameras, dressed in the dark Capitals jersey and wondering whether this was all real or just a dream. English buzzed around him, faster than he could even try and understand, but he was sure even if he understood the language perfectly, he still wouldn't be able to take in anything around him. 

He heard his name from behind him and then closely followed by the name, 'Sidney Crosby'. When he turned around to look, a man met his eye and then looked away. 

Sasha had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time his name was linked with Sidney Crosby, even with them being a year apart in the draft. 

 

**27/10/2005**

_Penguins remain the only winless team in the NHL after losing to a distracted Florida Panther team 4-3._ \- Garrett, Puckhead's Thoughts  
  
He knew Sid thought he called a lot, about everything, but there were so many more times where Sasha thought about calling Sid and then chose not to. Times when he was just a little bitter or a little too smug about a win by his team. He cherished his friendship with Sid and that meant he couldn't call him up whenever the thought came to him.

  
They were in the middle of three away games and so far Sasha had done the tourist thing with Zubie and practiced his English with Wils, but the one thing he hadn't done was call Sid and find out how he was doing. The Penguins were without a win, no matter how many points Sid was putting on the board, and he knew that had to sting. Especially when you weren't having people flying in from Canada specially to interview you after the game. 

He could send him a text but he hated texting, that was for people he wanted to avoid talking to and was only sending them a message out of obligation. And it wasn't like he didn't want to talk to Sid, he just didn't want to tread on anything too sensitive. Sid had been fairly relaxed about everything so far but Sasha had come from a family of sportspeople, ones who played at the highest level, and he knew all about those kinds of stress. 

He flipped his phone open and then shut again. This was stupid, he wanted to talk to Sid. He would just figure out when Sid picked up. 

Mind made up, he flipped open the phone again, only for Wils to come flying back into the room, his hair and T-shirt plastered to his skin from water. 

"Come on, rookie, we have to go and show them a better prank than water balloons." Wils scoffed to himself as he wrapped an arm around Alex's shoulders and steered him out of the room. 

He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and vowed to call Sid after his game.   


**5/11/2005**

_The comparisons with Sidney Crosby are inevitable._ \- Tim Whornsby, The Globe and Mail 

Sasha really didn't need to ask Sid how he was doing because the media would do it for him. How do you feel now that Sidney Crosby is beating you in the scoring race? Are you aiming for the Calder? If Sasha wasn't sure that his agent would come after him with a pitchfork, he would roll his eyes and tell the newspapers and blogs exactly what he thought about all this hype around him and Sid. Yes, of course he wanted to beat Sid, as much as Sid wanted to beat him. They were professional hockey players and that involved being the best. 

Sasha felt like he could deal with the stupid questions about whether he wanted to beat Sid but then one reporter, a blog writer who mostly lurked in the background rather than asking questions, spoke up. 

"What would you say to Crosby if you met him off the ice?" 

Sasha stared at him as he tried not to think about the phone call he and Sid had shared last night. Yeah, he could tell the reporters about how he and Sid were actually friends but he didn't really want it to get out. Sid was his friend and he didn't want the media sticking their nose and twisting it and questioning him and Sid about it. So what they were friends? It was no one else's business but their own. 

The man seemed to think Sasha's blank look was because he hadn't understood the question and repeated himself. "Would say nothing," Sasha replied with a shrug. He didn't know how else to answer that question. If he said they were friends, he would be stuck here until next Tuesday answering questions and same if he said they were enemies. 

At Sasha's answer, the group around him perked up and he saw several pens darting across paper and someone was muttering into their dictaphone at the back of the group. He resisted the urge to sigh. 

The next day, Sid sounded very amused on the phone. 

_"So you would give me the silent treatment if we met off the ice?"_

Sasha hated the media sometimes. 

 

**21/11/2005**

_No other No. 1 has scored two goals in his debut. Not Mario Lemieux. Not Eric Lindros. Not even the Saviour. Sir Sidney. Lord Crosby. The Fish Who Saved Pittsburgh and the Entire Sport of Hockey. The top pick of 2005 didn't light the lamp until his 3rd game..._ \- Eddie Matz, ESPN 

_"If we both play in Russia instead of United States, then I am the one everyone talks about."_ \- Alexander Ovechkin

There was barely anything off-limits when it came to chirping in the locker room and on the ice. Deaths were normally something avoided by everyone, if anyone had tried to bring up Sasha's brother, he would have backhanded them with his stick and had no regrets, and generally abuse was avoided.  But anything else, family, friends, brains, brawn, hockey skill, were all up for grabs. And if you got a reaction? That was what you honed in on. 

"Chosen One? Not a chance," a nameless Hurricanes player said to him on the ice after Sasha lost the faceoff. 

"Can't even live up to the Saviour of Hockey." A Rangers player said in the next game, his eyes rolling both at Sasha and the narrative around Sidney Crosby. It didn't stop the words from hitting the niggling part of his brain that liked to lurk in the background and only come out when Sasha was at his most low. 

"Sidney Crosby scored a goal in his game tonight at the same time as you scored yours. What do you say to that?" A reporter asked in the locker room, his Dictaphone held tightly in his hand as he shoved it in Sasha's face. His expression was eager, full of avarice, as if he was just waiting for Sasha to screw up. 

"We need to give you a nickname, like Sid the Kid but better," Wils said one night on the road. 

"Well, the Penguins have Crosby and we've got Ovechkin," his Captain said to him as he clapped Sasha on the back and grinned down at him. Sasha was the rookie, albeit the brilliant one, and he knew how he should react so he smiled and laughed and waved it off. Underneath the smile, there was another little crack in the mask. 

_"The media kept asking me about how I feel being the Saviour of Hockey. I mean, what the Hell I'm supposed to say to that? I'm not, I'm just doing what I love."_ Sid said on the phone two nights later. 

"I don't know, Sid." Sasha sounded far more bitter than he had intended to and he heard Sid go quiet on the other end of the line. 

_"Are you okay, Alex?"_

Sasha shoved down the feelings that had been plaguing him for the past three weeks. "Everything's fine, Sid." He wondered if Sid could hear the lie as much as Sasha himself could. 

 

**23/11/2005**

_"I don't know how much he pays attention the hype of him and Crosby."_ \- Brian Willsie, Article by Scott Burnside

Sasha didn't realise how good an actor he was until he read Wils' interview answer about Sasha and Sid. It felt like he had started obsessing over Sid and in a creepy, bitter kind of way, rather than the 'I want this guy to be my friend'  kind of way. He read the newspaper now, even if it was only the sports section, and wondered whether Sid was doing the same thing. 

If he wasn't thinking about hockey, he was thinking about Sid and since the two were so closely related in his mind that whenever he thought about hockey, thoughts about Sid would appear. Half the time it would be unsettling thoughts about his eyes and his mouth, things he should not be thinking about a friend but the other half of the time it would be thoughts about the media narrative and knowing that back in Russia, it would have been the opposite way round. 

The thing was he knew Sid was good. The attention wasn't undeserved and Sasha would body check anyone who would even suggest such a thing. However, the media wasn't known for its balanced view on things. There were no temperate views, you either wanted Sid to win or Sasha to win and right now, Sasha was losing. He didn't want the media to turn against Sid, that was the worst possible thing and would be hugely distracting for his friend but he wished he could stop being asked about whether Sid had wiped his ass before Sasha this morning or whether he had beaten that too. 

He was enjoying his first season in the NHL. Playing against the best in the world, expanding his skills every single practice and game was what he came to America for, but he could have dealt without the complete fuss from the media. Actually, he could have dealt with the media easily enough, it was child's play to avoid all mention of himself in the paper but the fact was that the owners of the teams cared about what the media thought. Media meant to more people watching and more people watching meant more money. Sasha was good at his job which meant people liked watching him and that put him in good standing with the owner. 

But if he went off on the media or ignored them like he really wanted to do, he would be up in front of the Coach in two seconds' flat. Even Gretzky got traded and Sasha wasn't going to fool himself and say he was anything close to Gretzky. The media wanted to see things other than hockey, creating rivalries when there were none and friendship among team players who worked well together on the ice but didn't speak off it, and Sasha's bosses wanted the media to keep saying good things about the Capitals. 

The worst thing was that the thing that annoyed him most about the media was something that he couldn't complain to Sid about. Sid could rant to him about how useless the media was being and Sasha wouldn't bat an eyelash. He cared because Sid was his friend but he didn't care other than that. Sid, on the other hand, was someone who took things to heart. If Sasha even talked about what was on his mind with this, Sid would take it as a way of Sasha being bitter about him and, while they would continue to be friends, Sasha would become one of those people that Sid had to watch his words around. Sid would pull away and Sasha would lose him as he was. 

He couldn't think of anything worse. 

 

**25/11/2005**

_"Sidney Crosby, the Pittsburgh Penguins’ 18-year-old phenom got the better of his first NHL meeting with Alexander Ovechkin – Washington’s 20-year-old sensation."_ \- Jes Golbez

Sasha wanted to make sure Sid didn't know that the media had been getting to him and so when they were flying back to Washington right after the game against the Penguins, Sasha texted Sid and asked him to stay up until Sasha called him. It was a little selfish but the loss and the swarm of media after the game meant he really had to talk to Sid. 

Sid messaged back and said it was okay. Sasha closed his eyes but didn't sleep, too busy turning over the night in his head. He mustn't let it fester, he couldn't let this spoil his friendship with Sid. 

Sid sounded tried when Sasha got back to his home and called, but happy all the same. 

_"Good game tonight, Alex,"_ he said. 

"Not as good as yours, Mr Goal-Scorer," Sasha replied. 

" _Alex_!" Sid sounded embarrassed and Sasha grinned. 

"Not be so lucky next time," Sasha promised. He was happy for Sid getting a goal tonight but next time it was going to be in a loss against the Capitals. 

The conversation wandered away from hockey and over to food before settling on families. When Sid was yawning every other word, Sasha regretfully started to wind down the conversation. He felt settled now, the buzzing in his head having finally calmed. 

"I'm sorry we didn't get to meet up in Pittsburgh," Sasha said, a little quieter than he had been speaking to Sid. "I miss seeing you in person." 

_"Me too,"_ Sid admitted and Sasha was glad that no one was around to see what was surely a goofy grin stretched across his face. 

 

**20/12/2005**

_"I consider, at that age, to give someone that position - it's ridiculous. To be honest, when Crosby was made an alternate, I laughed."_ \- Alexander Ovechkin

It was only a day since Sasha had called Sid so when he looked at his phone, only to recognise the number flashing up on the screen, he was instantly curious. And a little concerned. 

"Sid? You okay?" 

_"They want me to be an alternate captain!"_ Sid half-whispered, half-yelled down the phone. He sounded scared to death, like being asked to be alternate was like walking the plank. Alex didn't know whether it was in reaction to the news or Sidney's dramatic way of giving him the news, but he laughed. _"Really, Alex?"_

It had taken so long to get Sid to agree to call him by his first name, that the sound of it instantly quietened his laughter and made his smile softer. 

"You sound so scared," Sasha crooned in a deliberately obnoxious tone but Sid didn't hang up, merely huffed over the phone. "Come on, Sid. You in NHL three months? Tell them no way. You rookie, can't advise olders how to play, can't talk to refs without call whiny, what will you help?" 

_"I can do it,"_ Sid said. He wasn't laughing alone with Sasha like he would normally and that, more than anything, set off warning bells in Sasha's head. 

"You already say yes," he said flatly and he didn't need the silence on the other end of the line to let him know what Sid had done. He swore in Russian, knowing Sid would get the gist even if he didn't know the exact words. "Sid, too much pressure." 

_"So, you're saying I can't handle the pressure?"_ Sid's temper, so close to the surface nowadays, came flaring up again and Sasha wished he could bite his tongue. Stupid English language. His words were halting and stilted when they should be flowing and smooth, able to persuade Sid to see why this was a bad idea. 

"Not saying can't, saying shouldn't," Sasha replied. That wasn't quite right though. "Not fair on you." It was another way for the Penguins to put pressure on Sid, for him to be blamed when things go wrong. You couldn't lift a failing season by making a rookie an alternate captain, especially when that rookie was already doing a lot better than some of your players. 

_"I appreciate the concern, Alex,"_ Sid said in that modulated tone he used to talk to the press, _"but I can handle this."_  

"Shouldn't have to handle it," Sasha replied, trying not to yell but sounding more petulant than anything else. "Penguins shouldn't give it to you." 

_"I've already accepted so there is no going back now."_ Sid sounded stubborn and Sasha didn't know why he had tried. Him insulting Sid's team in this context wasn't chirping, something which could be shrugged off, but a serious criticism. Sasha was only criticizing them because he didn't like how they were treating Sid, but that wasn't what was done, no matter the reason. 

"Suppose not," Sasha muttered and wasn't surprised when Sid made a quick goodbye and hung up. He sat down on his bed at the end of the call and sighed. His house sounded exceptionally big right around now, without the sounds of Sid chattering in his ear. 

He would try again at Christmas. Maybe Sid would have cooled down by then. 

 

**09/03/2006**

_"I always tell him, 'I am not Sidney Crosby, so lay off me bud.'"_ \- Colby Armstrong, Penguins News

Sasha hadn't talked to Sid in two weeks, the longest he had gone since he had struck up this strange friendship. He didn't want to say that he felt adrift without the touchstone of his almost daily phone calls to Sid but, while his team were great, he struggled with things he would normally only say to Sid. Zubie was normally happy to listen to him when Sasha chatted in Russian about everything but that was more of a patient tolerance, rather than the eagerness Sid had when listening to Sasha. 

And now they were letting themselves be pulled apart. It was not something Sasha had thought he himself would allow, he had always thought he had a stronger personality than that. But now it had gone too long, how was he supposed to break the silence that grew more and more each day? 

 

**14/05/2006**

_'...if you think it's strange or even unfair that Alexander Ovechkin, who had experience from four years in the Russian pro league prior to coming to the NHL, is nevertheless considered a rookie in NHL terms and is allowed to compete for the Calder Trophy...'_ \- Q&A with Sidney Crosby 

Sasha caught the Q&A when he was googling Sid. In a completely non-creepy way. Normally he would avoid looking at anything with his name on it but when he was skimming the articles, he caught Sid being asked about him. It was a small question about whether Sasha should be in the Calder race but Sid shut down the speculation hard, without doing his usual talking around the subject. 

His hand reached out and dialled Sid's number before he considered it might not be the best time, considering Canada was still in Worlds. 

Sid picked up. " _Hello?"_

_"_ Sid." Sasha grinned, delighted just at the sound of his friend's voice. "You kicking butt?" 

_"Who even taught you that expression?_ " Sid sounded amused and outraged at the same time. It was Sasha's second favourite tone of voice from Sid. 

"Saw very nice article today," Sasha said and he could almost feel Sid's trepidation through the line. "It's good to see you support me beating you for Calder." It took a moment for Sid to realise what he said but when he did react, it was everything Sasha had hoped for. 

_"You aren't going to beat me,"_ he said and it was the kind of offended tone which was completely joking, even if it sounded all too real. _"And of course I was going to defend you. Even if we weren't friends, you're a rookie and you're still eligible."_

"Aw, Sid so sweet." Sasha made sure his tone was sugary but inside he was actually flattered. He knew Sid could have struck him down there, made a subtle insinuation that he was only looking out for the sport of hockey and in that spirit, he couldn't support Alex in the Calder race, and still come out looking like the good guy. But he didn't; his feelings were very clear to everyone who would read the article and it was giving Sasha warm and fuzzy feelings. 

_"I'm still going to beat you,"_ Sid said in a quiet tone. The chirping was still there but Sid's tone was all too fond for it to work. Sasha settled back in his chair and grinned up at the ceiling. When the season was all said and done, he really would have to invite Sid back to Russia for a little while. 

 

**06/2006**

_Ovechkin dazzled hockey fans with incredible speed, skilled puck handling, big hits and a dead accurate sniper shot._ \- Sidney Crosby Timeline

"Ovechkin, how do you feel about beating Crosby to the Calder?" A microphone was shoved in his face and he resisted the urge to push it back, out of his personal space. The questions had been going on for forty-five minutes and while he usually didn't mind chattering away to the press (sometimes half in Russian just to see their confused faces), he was getting to the end of his patience. 

He had a date. 

"Close race," he said, a serious but not too serious look on his face. Zubie called it his 'constipated thoughtfulness' expression and Sasha would take that. "Happy I won but Crosby good opponent." It had been fun racing to the finish line with Sid, something to strive against even when the media liked to make it a bigger deal than what it was. He was happy he won and he would celebrate with his teammates the next time he saw them (and by that he knew it would be mostly drinking and chirping), but he had a celebration planned and it involved no media whatsoever. 

Unfortunately, the reporters didn't get the memo and they kept Sasha there for twenty minutes. Sasha remembered the endless boring powerpoints he had to watch on the media and how to deal with them so he kept on answering questions instead of telling them to fuck off. The things he did for the Capitals and the NHL amazed him sometimes. 

Later, rather than sooner, he was hurrying up to Sid's room. Unlike Sasha's own, the only people who had keys to Sid's hotel room were himself and Sasha. Which meant that when he entered the room, he was greeted with Sid with a bottle of champagne, two glasses and a shy smile on his face. 

"You here to see the trophy?" Sasha couldn't help but tease, even as he reached out to accept one of the glasses Sid was holding out. When he glanced at the bottle label, he almost snorted at the fact that Sid had managed to find non-alcoholic champagne but Sasha took a drink of it anyway. 

Sid sighed but it was a put-upon, dramatic sigh that was meant to be mocked and Sasha could see the tips of his lips curl up in amusement. "I can't believe I bothered sneaking in here for you." 

Sasha laughed as he imagined Sid creeping along on tip toes, wearing a close-knit black balaclava. "Is appreciated." And it really was. None of Sasha's friends would have even thought about messaging them to come up to him to have a conversation. 

"But really, congratulations." Sid could switch between chirping and completely sincere in the blink of an eye and it still caught Sasha off guard. Sid was looking at him with a smile teasing at the edge of his lips and Sasha had to take a quick gulp of his champagne in order to make sure he didn't say anything too stupid. 

When he felt like he had his thoughts in order, he spoke up, careful to make sure the meaning in English matched up with the meaning in Russian. "Couldn't do without my best rival." He smiled at Sid and wondered if his feelings were too obvious when he did so. "Make me better all time, someone to..." He fumbled and tried not to look at Sid's shining eyes, knowing his thoughts would derail if he did so. "Someone to beat." That wasn't what he wanted to say, at least not the right sentiment but the concept was escaping in English. He said it in Russian, although he knew Sid would understand none of it, but it felt better to get it out loud. "I strive to be your equal all the time and it's that which makes me constantly learning." 

Sid seemed to get the meaning all the same. "Same to you," he murmured quietly and held up his glass to clink against Sasha's. 

 

**2015**

_So great was the anticipation of the arrival of a Russian prospect named Alexander Ovechkin, he was being heralded as not just a savior for the Caps, but the entire league...._ \- Sporting News

Sid called him up and started gloating as soon as Sasha answered. If it had been anyone else, Sasha would have been chirping him straight back and making sure he regretted gloating but it was Sid, so all Sasha could do was listen with way too much fondness. Things had changed since they had started these phone calls and now Sasha was living in his own house, firmly entrenched in Washington and Captain as the Capitals. Yeah, the distance between him and Sid only became worse over the years, or at least more painful to deal with but Sasha couldn't regret the path that had led them both here. 

"What are you talking about?" Sasha thought he spoke English perfectly well but then he would listen to Sid and despite thinking he heard the words in the right order, he still wouldn't understand what Sid was on about. 

"I was just saying that it looks like you're the Saviour of hockey this week," Sid said. He sounded far more fond than teasing and Sasha laughed. 

"I thought you didn't like reading press," he replied without answering what Sid wanted to answer. 

"I don't like reading my press," Sid corrected him, though it wasn't necessary. "But I keep an eye on yours." 

"And it gets you all mad and worked up," Sasha pointed out. Sid never told Sasha what kind of press he had been reading or what they had said (though Sasha could probably guess) but he would call up Sasha and want to talk about something completely unrelated in the kind of intense, angry mood that Sasha normally saw on the ice. 

"It's completely logical to get worked up about the press sometimes," Sid said. "As long as it's not your own press." 

"That makes sense," Sasha replied sarcastically. "So, it's my turn to be the Chosen One of Hockey this time?" 

"Yep," Sid replied. He sounded relaxed and chilled, something which had taken Sasha a long time to achieve when talking about the media. "Which means that when I'm at yours next week, it's your turn to pay." 

"Such a cheapskate," Sasha said for form's sake but more than willing. If it meant that he could see Sid, he would gladly pay for a five course steak and lobster dinner. That was something that hadn't changed. 


End file.
